Tears
by soundsaboutright
Summary: "The camera is switched on and at first all Kurt can see is a blurred view of blue.    Blaine's sweater, he realizes, as Blaine moves away and the lens focuses." A break up. A song. Requested by 1gleefan. A sad one,this scene. Never without hope,though.
1. Press play

Author's Note:

Hey, remember me;)? Dearest **1gleefan**, this is for you. Thanks for your endless patience and sweet words of encouragement. This truly is for you.

She said she'd love a fic with this song.

Never thought I'd write that kind of fic.

Because it was a challenge to think up a scenario with Klaine broken up. Different from all I've done. The song requires it, we thought. But it wouldn't be me, if there wasn't a dash of hope. Somewhere?;) I actually wrestled a lot with different versions and how to build this. Not sure if I'm any good at it;) Well, here goes what I think I settled on.

I imagine this set in the future, some semesters into college.

Warnings: Implicit mentions of depression. That just somehow happened while writing.

Kurt's POV.

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><p><strong>Tears<strong>

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><p><strong>I. <strong>

**Press play.**

The camera is switched on and at first all Kurt can see is a blurred view of blue.

Blaine's sweater, he realizes, as Blaine moves away and the lens focuses.

Kurt's lips press together in a tight line. So dark a shade of navy the garment's fabric is, that when Blaine steps further back, it could as well be black. Like the rest of the clothes he is clad in.

Silently Kurt watches as Blaine does not turn his face into the camera, instead walks wordlessly across the small room, to sit down at his keyboard.

He looks so young with the dimly lit, pixelated contrast of bunching colours, pale under his dark hair, loosely curled.

And for a moment Blaine sits still, frozen. Bracing himself until a reluctant jolt seems to run through him, and he fumbles, arranges the music sheets on the stand with unsure hands.

Kurt's glance falls onto a third page next to the sheet music.

Something inside him clenches, almost tears.

He can't read it for the video's quality, but he recognizes the paper, unfolded now, recognizes the density and the flow of text.

It is his letter.

Kurt's frame turns even more rigid in his chair.

That letter that was to put an end to it.

An end to his own slow numbing process of crumbling, of colours bleeding out of the picture. Of the light leaving his body as well as the room every night he switched it off, until he didn't even bother switching it on, when he returned to his dark apartment in the evenings. His apartment empty without Blaine, states away for the internship.

That letter that put an end to _them_, to what they thought they knew, were, and all those concepts of himself, slipping through Kurt's fingers.

The camera refocuses again, the lighting too low to give a really good picture.

But this video isn't posted for the visual aspect. Kurt knows.

Is confirmed still, when Blaine starts with a few random slow notes on his electric piano, and the audio is clear, piercingly so, to Kurt's ears.

On screen, Blaine isn't really looking at the sheets, slumped in his seat and chin dropped, studying the keys and his fingers on them instead. Hesitant, reluctant, as if trying to find the strength, the will to start the melody, trying to find the feel.

And then he does, whether ready or not. Starts. Sings. The first lines carried by a soft voice, barely audible from the speakers.

"Now, while we're here alone, and all is said and done, now I can let you know..."

Kurt sits, stares as he immediately recognizes the song. Does so because it was one of the songs he was listening to when writing his letter. Actually it was that song that gave him the strength, made up his words.

He didn't quote it literally, but those were his thoughts. That's how he wanted to make it sound. Thankful, but goodbye.

He'd cried hours to that song. To the bitter sweet feeling of sacrifice.

Blaine coughs lightly, then brings his chin forward, eyes staring at the lyrics, not moving, not seeing, Kurt assumes.

"Because of all you've shown, I've grown enough to tell you..."

Kurt can't avert his eyes. He's never mentioned the song to Blaine, and yet Blaine found it.

Connected Kurt's lines back to it, knowing, getting it.

Found it, found Kurt in it. Chose it, sings it. Is singing it back to him now, showing him he understands.

Kurt's throat goes tight with that realisation, in itself not unthought, but coming to him now strangely as if new. Just how much Blaine really knows him, gets him.

And there Blaine sits, that brokenness about him, just sits there, using one hand only for a simple accompaniment of chords, the other limp at his side. Makes the melody sound strewn wide, lost and lonely, resounding off the walls of the still room. Wonderfully so. Blaine's voice is beautiful, is raw, wary but warm.

Yet as he sings the lines, a look is on his face as if he was trying, struggling, had yet to find them inside him, tentative, when Kurt thinks he is getting them just right, thinks they are flowing right out of Blaine, in their essence.

But still Blaine seems dissatisfied, like he doesn't want them, the words, the notes, like he hopes to find them differently, hopes to understand them differently.

"I needed to be by your side, if only to hold you..."

And for a short moment, the tension that furrows Blaine's brow leaps over to his voice, rising, hardening with angry disappointment that he can't seem to be able to direct at anyone, broken, breaking further. Still ever so soft, so tender again by the end of the line.

"Forever in my heart..."

Blaine closes his eyes with a slow shake of his head, swallowing silently. Missing the next cue, dragging his entry. Perfect in its own way, Kurt thinks.

"...'ever we will be. And even when I'm gone, you'll be here in me..."

A distorted smile flashes across Blaine's face, vanishes.

He hits the keys harder in a harsh chord, then his hand slumps again, like its strength is flowing from it.

Still, once again and even more now Blaine looks as if in disagreement with his performance, self-conscious and disdainful. He sings the first words of the second verse, falters, but starts anew, chords flowing ceaselessly nonetheless.

And Kurt hears that something has shifted. Cannot put his finger on it, not sure what Blaine changed, but even in his state of numbness, Kurt hears lines he knows he's known, heard sung, has thought, but now they waver out of place, sound different. Different lyrics take a hold of him now, stand out, paling the others that he saw when writing the letter. He's heard them all, knew they were there, but mostly clung to the chorus for the things he wanted to convey.

Blaine's voice is soft, plain and hollow, still trembling with it as he takes in breath after breath. He sounds so tired now. Like Kurt feels.

"Once, I dreamed that you were gone... " Blaine swallows again, frowning. He skips a line, just sets his jaw, silent, the keyboard the only thing heard. Kurt wishes and does not that he could see his face better, turned away in half profile.

"Please awaken me."

And Kurt doesn't know how, but those lines seem to reach out to him now, grip for him, and even if Blaine does not noticably emphazise them, he just nails it, having Kurt's crouched form lean closer to the speakers.

"But night took a hold of my heart,

And left me with no one to follow..."

A strange pull tightens the muscles of Kurt's chest. He always had a fighter's heart. How could he lose it? How could it get so numb?

The laptop's light is the only one in the room, making Kurt's eyes water against the darkness from outside, inside. It's early Saturday. One morning more that Kurt couldn't sleep anymore.

Along trailing chords, Blaine now hums instead of singing the next lines. As if not willing to form the words. Draws out notes, lost, high, hoarse and perfect, lost in his thoughts, breaking the song's melody down to solitary sounds raw at the edges.

He has his voice tip to a breathy, dragging tone, gaining substance only for the last two lines:

"You always thought I'd be,

I'd be yours..."

Blaine's shoulders lift, work with the effort of singing, breathing, wording it.

"Forever..."

He chokes on the end note. Voice breaking with finality, a jolt jerks through him and he doesn't sing it out. Stops playing, abruptly, and stands up, the chair with a loud screech scratching across the floor, almost toppling over. Making Kurt jump with the coarseness of the sound.

And then Kurt can see nothing but an erratic hand reaching out. The camera's view a blur, then black, as it is turned off.

Kurt stares at the screen, mind blank like the window of the player. A hollow thumping is in his ears, his head, his throat that he hasn't heard for the longest time, that he registers, but doesn't yet entirely recognize.

Tears are falling, he senses it. But won't feel them. Doesn't know what he's feeling. If he is feeling anything at all anymore.

It's too far gone, he thinks. I am.

His teeth grind together.

Then just why are these tears running down his cheeks?

Why is his body shaking?

.

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><p>AN: Song is Forever in your Heart by Kenny Loggins, as requested. I will not leave you and them here though. This will be posted in four parts (one a day or faster) that will complete this scene.<p>

Oh, my. Visualising Blaine singing, imagining how he would sound in a stripped down version like this, it's so vivid in my mind, it actually breaks my heart.

Let me know your thoughts and if you like it...


	2. Torn apart

**II.**

**Torn apart**

Kurt stands up, just to walk somewhere, anywhere else, if only for the sake of movement.

Normally those impulses of running come at night. They are worst then, when he can't go out and run. Not that it does really help. Running.

But now it is too early a morning anyway, still dark outside, even if Saturday already.

So he crouches back over his laptop and mindlessly, restlessly hovers the cursor over the link again.

He has not been answering Blaine's emails or calls since he broke it up. Since the letter. He couldn't have done all, any of this, if he would have.

Yet now this new video, posted yesterday.

No commentary, title simply the date.

What part of him made him think it was safe to watch a video?

Because Blaine would never know he saw it? Because Kurt didn't have to answer it, didn't have to explain himself? Because he was alone here, no-one but him to fall apart? Because there was nothing left to lose anymore anyway?

The blinking cursor mocks him. Replay.

Kurt buries his head in his hands. No-one but him to fall apart. He almost scoffs, almost laughs at the thought, when a worn shirt over the siderest of the couch thankfully distracts his glance. His hands reach for it before he knows so, and he folds it for nothing and no-one, picks it up when it slips his grip, opens and refolds it.

The memory is there suddenly, everpresent and new, all there anyway, too vivid even in its dulled and faded colours.

That fatal surprise visit.

And he would snort at himself, if it didn't leave him so numb right now.

Because really, could it be any more cliché...?

Yes, he saw Blaine flirting with someone else, unaware that Kurt had come to visit. And somewhere deep down Kurt knows, knew even then, that it just is Blaine's natural way of conversing, eyes alight and so warm and alive.

But he scared himself that moment, when he suddenly didn't seem to have anything left to set against it.

Kurt's fingers are cold and rough, catch on the smooth cotton, drawing slow relentless circles.

They had made it through Blaine's senior year at high school. Had mastered the challenge of a new start together in an apartment. Then the chance for a one year internship from coast to coast had come along for Blaine.

Being apart. They had done this before. So Kurt had been supportive, so sure they could do this.

He had been so sure of a lot of things.

His fingers curl into the fabric.

Yet this time something had gone awry. A minor part of him, growing too fast, had not been able to agree, wouldn't see it as the challenge that was to be coped with, but had turned against him. His body, his chemistry. This time it had all just drained him, and all he'd been able to see after some weeks was the strain, the load on his shoulders, the things he'd been lacking.

He'd never known, had seemed to have forgotten, just how much he needed Blaine's physical presence, at least once in a while, how much it influenced the way he held himself, to have Blaine near.

Phone calls hadn't just been the same.

And Blaine, his old friends, his family, they had not been around to see. See when something had changed, when Kurt had changed.

He had not been able to see it himself then. Wouldn't. Had thought he'd be alright, would come around, eventually. Had convinced himself as he did them, his friends and colleagues here, who it had been too easy to keep up appearances with. He is Kurt Hummel, after all.

Kurt swallows silently.

Easy on the outside at least. Inside he'd been losing himself. Wouldn't sleep enough, hadn't been able to anymore. Not well like he did with Blaine around. Restful nights had gone together with Blaine.

Then fall had come and the sleep deprivation had just added to so many rejections, disappointments, reality-checks of all kinds, day-to-day and random, not unusual, but too many, all of a sudden. Rain, wet leaves on the ground and early darkness. Loneliness. And at some point he'd just become so tired.

The delicate pattern of the shirt swims before his eyes, after staring too long, unblinking.

And then that surprise visit, when he saw Blaine in that lobby.

There it was in front of Kurt for him to see, standing out and sinking in. There Blaine was.

Grown so much into himself.

Kurt's thumbs smooth a crease out of the shirt in his lap, as his throat tightens with a sentiment that he cannot categorize.

Already early on in their relationship he had realized it. That even if Blaine had changed Kurt's own life's dynamic and brought happiness into it that he hadn't thought he'd ever find, Blaine had needed him maybe more than Kurt had needed Blaine.

For Blaine's need had been so much more dire, because it had been more hidden. Blaine had had all those philosophies and morals and beliefs, but when they'd met they all still would seem several sizes too big.

Issues had been even more deeply rooted, more covered up than with Kurt, calling for a much more considerate and subtle support, because most of the time Blaine hadn't even been aware of how hard he was on himself.

And always, sometimes more, sometimes less obvious than others, Blaine had been looking for Kurt to define their relationship. And although they had talked and constituted together, it had been in its depths just so.

Blaine had always trusted Kurt's judgment of their relationship blindly, even more so with time, time that had proven that sometimes Kurt seemed to know Blaine and his needs better than Blaine did himself.

Kurt closes his eyes, Blaine's face there with them shut or opened, anyway.

So he saw him there, talking animatedly and he just knew how much Blaine had grown, finally glowing with a self confidence that was anchored inside him, anchored where Kurt's support and love had rooted it.

A true form of self-respect and self-love that hadn't been there when they'd met, when Blaine had still been trying to believe it, trying and struggling to live it out as an example for others before it really was inside of him.

The corner of Kurt's lips tense.

Blaine had always been beautiful. Because his gentle heart and best intentions had always been there. He'd just been too afraid to love himself like he loved others.

But seeing him that day it became clear to Kurt how very much Blaine had settled inside himself. He didn't need Kurt anymore like this, not urgently like back then.

And it hit Kurt in that moment in that hotel lobby. How empty he'd started to feel himself.

He disgusted himself in that moment.

So his mind found him a way out.

And for the first time in a long time, it chose retreat over fighting.

Kurt puts the shirt away, over the side rest where he picked it up.

He didn't turn on his heel and ran. No, he even went and saw Blaine the next day, and things seemed almost fine for a while. But when he flew back two days later, he knew something had changed.

At first he increased the distance, made it not only a physical one, but took his time with calling back, answering with excuses without a heart to them.

When Blaine asked about it, about him, he said it was nothing.

And somehow they were both busy enough with their lives apart, all day, each day anew, that it was just the way it went. Kurt lost focus, when everything became just about getting through the day.

All those break up songs were on his play list, in his head, he wallowed in them, closed himself off. Retreated into his head. Like he'd never had before. Not since Blaine. Not since he was 17.

He made up his mind, that it was his noble duty, to be reasonable about this. Better for the both of them. For Blaine. Blaine should have a chance on happiness.

And so Kurt sent the letter.

_Sorry, I tried, but I can't._

_I don't want to do this, but I think it's right. The mature thing to do. _

_For now, I just can't._

Well, he'd chosen words more eloquent, but that was what it came down to.

He presented Blaine with a fait accompli, making his decision for the both of them.

_Don't call me, don't come over. I can't do this right now. Just respect that I need space._

He didn't want drama this time. Didn't need it, could not handle it. He tried to sound, to be grown up and reasonable. For he instinctly knew, Blaine would have defied his decision, had it been a passionate one, presented as such, would have countered with just the same passion.

So Kurt had put what was left of his heart into the letter, all warmth and understanding. Declared his love even, thanking Blaine for the time they had, but asking for his decision to be respected, if Blaine respected Kurt.

And how could Blaine have argued that?

He couldn't. And that was what Kurt had wanted.

Kurt's jaw trembles then sets.

He played Blaine, speaking of having thought about it all, a lot. And thought about it he had, he believed in his reasons. But he knew just what this would do to Blaine.

For Blaine knowing Kurt had no choice but to believe it, too. He'd always known Kurt was a fighter, so him retreating must mean there were good reasons.

Kurt had relied on the image Blaine had of him to make his point, when he didn't recognize himself back then. Or now. Hasn't ever since.

Kurt lets his chin sink to his chest.

He really did believe it, though, himself. Cried for the compassionate tone of goodbye in his own words, cried over his noble sacrifice, because he wanted to cry then.

He meant every word he'd written.

Still does.

For the wave of regret would crush him if he didn't.

Kurt's thumb and indexfinger find the bridge of his nose, the harsh pressure the only thing that keeps his head up, or so it seems to him.

He sent the letter, and from then on it was only time. One week, two, a month, one and a half... as the decision drifted farther from him, the urgency to take it back fading with the first of pain, when the numbness came. Took over what was still left to conquer, rather.

Kurt lets his hand drop to move the mouse around the pad without aim.

He can't be second guessing himself now. He asked Blaine to respect his decision. Now he must do the same, and stick to his own word.

His tongue is dry in the cavity of his mouth, as he slumps in his seat, in on himself.

His breath sounds hollow to him.

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><p>AN: This chapter gave me the most trouble, since it is different from the others, for filling in the background (of which I wasn't really sure how much to give). Hope it works somehow.

:) Please review:)


	3. Tear down

**III. **

**Tear down**

He has been doing the chores, going through empty motions. Sleepwalking.

That is why Kurt presses the intercom without a second thought. Without a first, really.

The player on screen is still open. There was no courage to be found to play it again, so the video's paused at the frame with Blaine standing up, the chair shoved away, Blaine's face invisible behind a tense set of shoulders, blurred by movement.

The screensaver is disabled. Let it all burn into the surface, like into his mind. Shadows, colours, dots disconnected.

It's been on there for five hours, when the doorbell rings.

"Kurt?"

Kurt freezes, needs a second to believe the voice and his memory of it, distorted through the speaker and by tension.

When he hears himself stutter into words, his voice is coming to him from far away, as if he didn't use it in forever. He probably didn't.

"Blaine? What... why...?"

"Kurt, I need to speak to you..."

Kurt's body stays immobile, not able to decide, to move. Kurt leans, then slumps against the wall with the speaker, brain working and not. Suddenly overextended by the situation, so that his body takes charge, seems to think even standing is too much.

Blaine waits, but then he is talking into his end of the line, blurts, urgency and so much emotion, while Kurt listens with wide eyes.

"Kurt I tried to sing it, I did, tried to do it, see if it would fit, if I could fit in it, but I... I wanted to try and accept that you feel like this, but I... this is not me, not us, can't be what you... God, you probably have no idea what I am talking about..."

But Kurt does. Bites his lip as his thoughts are soberly rearranging, distantly. The video. Why Blaine stopped. The look on his face. Blaine tried to understand it. And Kurt was right when he instinctly felt that Blaine got it. Because Blaine did. But he didn't want it, couldn't accept it.

And so he's here. Blaine is here.

Blaine keeps talking, when Kurt doesn't answer.

"Kurt, I know you asked me to respect you, and I do, but that is not the way we do things, we talk, we work through them..."

It starts as a shiver across Kurt's skin.

"I am thankful for the time we had, too, but... This is not where I am, I am not yet prepared to let go. Not in the least.

I will fight for this, when you can't right now, but... You're not yourself right now. I know you... I know _you_, Kurt."

Not even the inconstant connection of the intercom breaks the passionate tone of Blaine's voice now. Kurt closes his eyes.

"This is not over yet. I am not done yet. We aren't."

Static. White noise everywhere.

"Kurt?

Open up.

Open up.

Let me in."

Kurt's resolve shakes. Is dissolving, disintegrating with the sound of Blaine's voice. Hollow walls crumble.

And Kurt is too tired to oppose. Doesn't know why he would want to anymore.

Hot tears are streaming down his face, for the first time in a long while stinging his skin again.

He feels them.

Feels that those might be the real tears he needs to get through this. After all the empty ones.

Blaine breathes into the line.

And suddenly it is there in Kurt's mind: Don't let go. Let him in.

Kurt reaches up, a stretch of his whole body and presses the button of the door opener.

.

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><p>AN: A short epilogue to come. Because I want it there.

Review pretty please:)


	4. Epilogue

A/N: Because I wanted a short part in this where they are actually together in the same room.

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><p><strong>IV. <strong>

**Epilogue/ If only to hold you **

Kurt more crawls than walks to the apartment door, and opens it. Leaves it slightly ajar. Slumps against the wall again, staring, blinking away tears, fanning himself with his hands to dry, to cool his cheeks, but failing. Choking. His heart beat at his throat is in time with the quick footsteps flying up the stairs.

Then a pair of shoes appear inside his swimming vision.

Blaine sinks down immediately with a soft sound from the back of his throat, and wraps himself around Kurt in a trembling embrace. Breathing out.

Then he coaxes Kurt up, walks him to the bed, laying them down. Kicking shoes off, dragging his knees up onto the mattress, his legs over Kurt as if trying to cover as much of him with his body as he can.

And Kurt feels Blaine seep into his space and senses. Smells him, coffee breath, along the slight stubble of a day spent travelling.

Sees hazel eyes wide with being unsure, overwhelmed, wondering how to handle Kurt like this, yet still doing it.

Then there's kisses, soft pressure, covering Kurt's entire face with lips Blaine doesn't stop for the longest time, their cheeks and foreheads connecting, holding against each other like their bodies.

Reassurance, reacquaintance. Reclaim.

It's giving Kurt something to feel, is physical comfort, is sensuality.

Whispering 'Sorry, I took so long', 'I'm here' and 'I got you'.

The relentless friction against Kurt's face makes it hot, skin feeling tight and swollen wet, not so much from tears anymore, but kisses, soft press of open mouth, cooling it.

It tingles, prickles, makes Kurt's head feel light, even if his chest still aches with his body heavy on the covers, heavy and anchored in Blaine's embrace.

So much after far too long of too less, of nothing.

So gentle, tender are Blaine's fingers on his nape, not expecting to make it better right away, just being there to stick it out, bearing it. Letting Kurt cry.

"I want you in my arms, forever." Said lightly, honestly. Then staring, sinking in, meaning it. Blaine's eyes betray so much more, enhance the promise, the demand.

_Inside my heart. My thoughts, my body. My future_.

"I want you to return into them, always. We will get through this."

Another whisper in this kiss that doesn't seem to stop.

And slowly Kurt feels like he wants again. Might.

Does.

This. Blaine. Them.

He stares into Blaine's eyes, into his reflection. That reflection of himself in deep brown eyes that he has seen there all those times before.

And he feels like he remembers. Like he's starting to recognize.

Kurt nods.

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><p>AN: Love to know what you think:)

Oh, and 1gleefan linked me to this: Kenny Loggin's live version of the song, just put youtube (.) com in front of it:)

/watch?v=GRACsJ63YBs


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